Saturday, May 29, 2021

I will pound on your door

 
If it’s locked when I get there
I will pound on your door
until you let me in.
I’ll scratch and scrape at the hinges
like a dog or a child
who longs for the hearth,
who longs for the breast,
who longs for home.
 
If we should meet,
unplanned, in the street,
as if our separate steps
were directed by gods
from Olympian heights,
then we’ll kiss and I’ll hold you,
and that will be enough.
 
And if I die before you
I will wait.
I will hide in the corner
of whatever room
you happen to be in,
or snug in your pocket.
And if you die before I,
I will lay myself down
and stretch myself out
on your grave.
 
I know you are strong,
the strongest I’ve known,
but even the strong grow tired.
So lie down beside me and rest a while,
for I am not strong, but I love you.
 
And if I die before you
I will wait.
I will hide in the corner
of whatever room
you happen to be in,
or snug in your pocket.
And if you die before I,
I will lay myself down
and stretch myself out
on your grave,
for I am not strong, but I love you.

1 comment:

  1. Hey, I know this poem. Got it right here on the shelf. A good one! Strong ending... Always end strongly or don't end at all, I says.

    j

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